


Plus Est En Nous

by Erazon



Series: Prompt Weeks [2]
Category: Rapunzel's Tangled Adventure (Cartoon)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Cassunzel Week, F/F, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-19
Updated: 2020-07-25
Packaged: 2021-03-04 23:07:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 4,310
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25374370
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Erazon/pseuds/Erazon
Summary: Just as sure as the winter follows fall and death follows life, the sun will always settle in the west and the moon will always rise in its wake. It is an endless cycle, an unending hunt between two heavenly bodies destined to never meet. Except when they do, sharing a kiss within an eclipse, in defiance of the stars.
Relationships: Cassandra/Rapunzel (Disney: Tangled)
Series: Prompt Weeks [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1849057
Comments: 9
Kudos: 103





	1. Homecoming and Reunion

Rapunzel hadn’t thought much about growing her hair out since the first time she cut it herself. Having it short feels freeing; after being tangled up in long, blonde, magical hair for so long, it feels almost rebellious to keep her brunette hair cropped close to her shoulders. Which is why it surprises her to see Cassandra return with hair even longer than hers, brushing the edges of her shoulder and would have been longer still if not for the bounce of her curls.

She doesn’t like it. It’s not that Cassandra doesn’t wear it beautifully, and it truly suits her when she wears it tied back away from her face and up in a ponytail- but it’s not right. While it’s a far cry from the moonstone’s electric blue and the way that shocking colour made looking at Cassandra feel like looking at an entirely different person, but it’s still not the short cropped dark hair that she associates with Cass.

Yet Cass has changed, and it’s plain for everyone to see that it’s for the better; she wears her smiles easier and she’s quicker to let herself laugh, and she carries herself with relaxed, unburdened shoulders. It makes sense that her physical appearance would change too (and Rapunzel doesn’t need to pretend that all the new scars don’t bother her, at least), because she’s a new woman now. A woman Rapunzel doesn’t know anymore- or at least as well as she once did. She hates that her gut would begrudge Cassandra of her right to grow and change and move on, so she shrugs it off as best she can. But she still doesn’t like the new hair.

Cassandra notices the thoughtful frown on Rapunzel’s face when she turns around, and her brow furrows as Rapunzel hastens to pretend she wasn’t burning a hole into the back of her head just moments prior.

“What is it?” she asks, and Rapunzel hesitates before deciding to come clean.

“I just, I miss your old haircut is all. Not that you don’t look great, I just- your old hair was cute,” Rapunzel explains. There. It’s simplifying her feelings to their bare essentials in a way she hopes Cass understands, and it seems to be alright because Cassandra just smiles at her.

“You think it was cute?”

“Yeah! I always did,” Rapunzel lights up.

They don’t say any more on the topic, but that’s fine. It’s not an entire weight off her chest, but Rapunzel is still glad that her feelings are out there, however brief and censored, and that’s the end of that. That is, until tomorrow comes, and Cassandra joins her out on the balcony in the following morning with a pair of scissors in hand.

“What are those for?” Rapunzel asks, setting her hairbrush down.

“I was thinking about last night, and I think it’s time I trimmed my hair back again. So, would you do the honour?” Cassandra asks.

“Oh! I mean- you know you don’t have to do it just for me, or anything,” Rapunzel stresses. Of course the last thing she wants is Cass feeling like she needs to change herself to make her happy.

“I could tell that it was bothering you,” Cassandra grins at her, and she can’t help but smile weakly back. Cass was always good at reading her.

“Are you sure?” she asks, fidgeting with her hands.

“It’s just hair, Raps. I mean, I get why it’s special to you- of course it is. And letting it grow out felt nice for a while, but I’m starting to remember why I liked it short anyway. It’s not my identity, it’s just hair, and it’ll grow again. Here,” Cassandra says with another one shouldered shrug, and holds the scissors out.

“You don’t want to get the royal hairdresser to do it for you?” Rapunzel asks, but takes them from her anyway.

“Nah, I’m sure you can manage. Besides, I’ve got enough curl to hide any jagged edges, so unless you screw up _really_ badly-”

“I’ll be fine,” Rapunzel assures her with a teasing grin, and pats her shoulder. “Let’s go to the bathroom.”

The snip of the scissors is soft, with blades of stainless silver that don’t so much as squeak as they glide through dark hair. The severed ends float to the floor and gather around their feet, a growing pile of black against marble floor. When Cassandra stands up and turns around, Rapunzel thinks she could cry. Of course, she still looks different- the scar crossing the left side of her face isn’t going anywhere any time soon, after all- but it’s _Cass_. Although she carries herself with more ease and radiates the new calm she’s found on her journeys, it finally feels like she’s looking at her best friend again.

And it was silly, she knows, to think she wasn’t before. Cassandra’s affectionate smile and loving gaze has stayed the same, just as it was yesterday and just as it was years ago. And when they melt into a hug, that’s the same too.

“Your hair was cute in a ponytail too, by the way,” Rapunzel mumbles into Cassandra’s shoulder and her body shakes with Cass’ laughter.

“Oh, _now_ you tell me,” she chides, and Rapunzel just grins back.


	2. Secrets and Promise

Rapunzel narrows her eyes at the dashing figure in an embroidered black vest who skirts past her. There’s something about them she can’t put her finger on, and they’ve been slipping in and out of the ballroom all night. It’s enough to keep her on high alert; for all her inexperience, she knows suspicious behaviour when she sees it. After all, it’s hard _not_ to be suspicious in the middle of a masquerade ball, in which anonymity is in vogue. 

There was not a bare face to be seen, but instead an array of vibrant bautas, voltos and colombinas, with even the staff wearing the unnerving, featureless black morettas. Rapunzel had naturally taken the opportunity to paint her own mask, but for once her colourful pastel oils were muted by her surroundings. 

“How’s this champagne? I didn’t know they made it in pink,” Eugene comments next to her, and Rapunzel quirks a smile at him as he admires his flute. However, it slips away again when her mysterious figure pops up again, discarding their previous owl-themed medico della peste for a new black mask with silver detailing and cat ears, of all things. She squints; something weird is definitely going on here. And then they’re gone again, and she elbows Eugene’s side. 

“Hey Eugene, have you noticed something weird going on?” she asks, pulling his attention away from his champagne. He’s halfway into turning around when a forceful hand on his shoulder pulls him aside. 

“Listen, Brock- new plan.”

He’s got a grip on the offending arm and is halfway into a defensive manoeuvre when the familiar voice registers in his mind. 

“ _Cass?_ ” he shouts, and the masked individual takes a step backwards, pulling her arm free. 

“ _Eugene?_ What are you doing- Rapunzel?” 

“Cassandra?” Rapunzel gasps, but it’s not really a question- she’d recognise that unmistakable tone anywhere. Her fixation on the mysterious figure falls into place, as she realises that their lean figure and dark curls are intimately known to her even if the striking features she associates them with were hidden behind an ornate disguise. 

“What are _you_ doing here?” Eugene asks, “And- did you call me _Brock?_ You’re not working with Brock Thunderstrike are you, because if you are-”

“Yeah, we’re on a job. The Duke hired us to protect his wife’s fancy new rock of a ring, and because it’s a masquerade everyone’s got the same idea and there’s about seven fakes circulating around right now,” Cassandra explains, the roll of her eyes leaking into her voice. Rapunzel surges forward with excitement and grasps Cassandra’s gloved hands between her own. 

“If we can help in any way, let us know,” she says, and Cassandra cocks her head in a way that suggests she’s smirking behind the smug feline grin of the mask. 

“There is no real diamond. It’s just a bunch of bumbling idiots fighting over the same damn fake rock, but we’re just keeping everyone on their toes until the ball’s over. So all you have to do is just have fun and look pretty,” Cassandra says, and boops her nose. 

“I guess we won’t have time for a dance then,” Rapunzel pouts. 

“I’ll just have to owe you one next time,” Cassandra grins back. 

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

Cassandra disappears back through the crowd with a wave, soon blending in with the other partygoers. Now that she’s keeping an eye out, she spots Eugene’s lookalike on the upstairs balustrade and a woman about Stalyan’s height in a relatively sleek dress and a gaudy golden solar mask. Rapunzel knows better than to get herself involved, it’s something Cass has under control, so she resolves to keep her word and just enjoy the night. 

But she’s going to make sure Cass keeps to hers, too.


	3. New Beginnings

There are certain truths known to all Coronans, told through myths and legends passed on through generations, about the natural world in which they all live. Of a kingdom blessed by the sun, its tale is known very well. Just as sure as the winter follows fall and death follows life, the sun will always settle in the west and the moon will always rise in its wake. It is an endless cycle, an unending hunt between two heavenly bodies destined to never meet. Except when they do, sharing a kiss within an eclipse, in defiance of the stars. 

Cassandra doesn’t come home very often, at least at first. Sometimes her journeys are closer, sometimes farther, and her letters are routine enough, but they treasure the scant time they get to spend together. Cassandra considers staying longer, and sometimes she does, but eventually the eternal call of the world beyond beckons her again, pulling her away with the tide. 

When she returns from her latest sojourn to Galcrest, the sun is at its zenith above the palace, where Rapunzel drags her for an immediate rendezvous.  Cassandra can’t even find it within herself to be bothered by all the fanfare and frenzy, because Rapunzel’s smile is bright and warmer than the sunshine, and it’s a nice change from the cold she’s used to. So she suffers through it all- the reunions, the dinner, the party- even as the sky shifts from blue to gold to pink to black, because Rapunzel’s smile remains unchanging. 

It’s a beautiful night. The harvest moon shines in its full brilliance above them, casting a blue wash over the kingdom. The clear sky is a good omen, if only because it ensures a good yield for Corona’s farmers by tomorrow. And of course, its soft glow shines on Cassandra’s hair like the first dusting of snowfall, illuminating her fair skin. She’s ethereal. 

“It’s good to have you back, Cass,” Rapunzel says, taking Cassandra’s hands in her own. 

“It’s good to be back,” Cassandra agrees, and lifts one of Rapunzel’s bare hands to her lips. A kiss presses against knuckles and hazel eyes glance up from beneath heavy lids. Rapunzel is caught breathless, save for two words. 

“Marry me?” 

Cassandra blinks, and Rapunzel freezes as she realises what she’s said. 

“Sure,” Cass answers, a slight smile cracking her stunned expression until she doubles over in laughter. Rapunzel’s chest bubbles as she joins in, leaning on Cass’ shoulders to anchor herself. 

The question of how they’re going to make it work lingers in the air above them, but they’re content to let it hang. There’s no need to sober themselves of their elation straight away, and for all their doubts they’ve plenty more hope to spare. After all, they’ve defied the stars before. 


	4. I'd Give Anything / Alternate Universe

Rehab is… not fun. Cassandra is grateful for the peace and quiet, and the cleanliness, but that’s about it. With it comes the irritability of withdrawals, the paranoia of being isolated from the world outside, the loneliness. Oh, and the group sessions, those fucking suck. Dad had visited once she’d been admitted, with a stiff apology and a warm hug, but they’re both uncertain on where to go from there so he gives her more space instead. Eugene and Lance have made a few appearances too, which help lighten her mood, but she’s grateful for the one constant- Rapunzel. 

Despite her busy schedule, she visits just about whenever possible, and Cassandra can’t express how much it means to her. Instead she curls up on her bed and extends a hand out, inviting Rapunzel to join her. It’s an echo of that day, or rather, that evening- when Cassandra had finally woken up to find herself in a hospital bed, Rapunzel by her side. Thankfully everything here is more comfortable, if still unpleasant. 

“How are you holding up?”

“Not great,” Cassandra replies, honestly. “I’m getting really antsy all the time, and those annoying doctors just make it worse. They won’t even give me a fucking radio.” 

Being disconnected from the rest of the world is in Cassandra’s best interest, they both know, because she’s been all over the news for the past week- but Cass has never been good with silence, without music to fill the void. 

“Here,” Rapunzel picks up the acoustic guitar on its stand by the bedside and hauls it into her lap, grateful that they’d at least allowed her that. 

“Any requests for the DJ?” she asks, and Cass actually giggles. 

“One of Rapunzel’s greatest hits, please.” 

Rapunzel gives the guitar a few cautionary strums, then begins to play a few familiar chords, humming a gentle melody. Cassandra doesn’t recognise it at first, but then then it all falls into place as she begins to sing the opening lines. Rapunzel’s voice has always had a tender quality to it, and it serves her best in gentle lullabies like these. It’s a song she’d written as a solo single- after Cass had left the group- and it was much more heartfelt than their usual peppy tunes. Cass had turned the radio off the first time she’d heard it play. 

It’s a beautiful song, though, and Cassandra contents herself to bury deeper into Rapunzel’s side as she plays. After she sings the final note, she lets the guitar down gently and curls into Cassandra’s embrace. 

“I like that song.”

“I’m glad, considering I wrote it for you.”

“I thought it was for Eugene,” Cassandra cracks a half smile. Rapunzel huffs with laughter, shaking her head. 

“You and everyone else. I thought the lyrics were pretty obvious, but well- I guess I just hoped you might hear them, and even if you didn’t want to talk to me again, you’d at least know how I feel,” she says. Cassandra smiles, but it just as soon falls from her face. Rapunzel shares her frown as she regards the circles underneath Cass’ eyes, and the way the were staring unfocused at the space between them. 

“I’m so sorry, Cass,” she whispers, stroking circles into her palm with her thumb. The skin is scaly beneath her touch, all scar tissue and skin grafts. Her other hand reaches for Cassandra’s good hand, and traces a crescent over the stiff stick tattoo carved on the back. 

“Me too,” Cass replies, letting her eyes droop to a close. There’s a lot that goes unspoken, but they leave it at that for now. They have plenty of time to work through it, together.


	5. Heartbreak

Rapunzel’s heart doesn’t break all at once. 

When Cassandra’s arm withers and decays, her heart cracks. The pieces are all still there, wounded and yet salvageable if mended, but left untreated the crevices run deep and infection begins to rot and fester. Which is why, when Cassandra steals the moonstone from under her nose, her heart still doesn’t break. Seedlings of the Great Tree’s weeds have lodged themselves in the cracks and from them grew the strangling fingers of bindweed. As her heart beats its grasp tightens, and the pieces hold together with all the strength she can muster. 

That strength weakens when she places a warm hand against cold red bedrock. It’s an embodiment of Cassandra’s fear, her doubts and hesitancy, and though Rapunzel struggles to figure out _why_ , it’s enough for her to feel. It’s enough for her to know. It’s enough to feel one piece of her heart blacken with gangrene and sever itself from her chest as it floats away like a deadened petal. 

Then Eugene’s birthday comes, and with it Cassandra and her ploy for the Demanitus scroll, and with that the end of her rope. There’s something going on here that Rapunzel knows she’s not privy to, but for the life of her she still can’t understand it- and somewhere between Cassandra talking to herself and threatening Eugene’s life and the clash of sun and moon- another piece breaks off. 

( _I don’t follow your orders anymore_ )

The next time Rapunzel sees Cassandra, it’s at the confrontation at the spire, and her heart doesn’t break but it _hurts_ , seeing Cassandra so subdued at the heels of somebody else. Somebody she learns is _the_ Zhan Tiri, and still nothing makes sense but it’s starting to make a little less of no sense, if that makes sense. She fools herself into thinking that this means if she can just find Cass and separate her from Zhan Tiri, she might be able to get through to her. 

She gets what she wants, at first; only for another piece to fall apart when Cassandra finds the hand mirror that had found its way into her bag, revealing a memory of a mother who knew how to play kind. Turquoise eyes brimming with betrayal fire a glare that pierces her breast and lodges itself into her heart, because Rapunzel knows there’s nothing she can do to turn this situation around. She denies and pleads, of course, but Cassandra’s always been impulsive when her emotions run hot, and there’s nothing but vindication fuelling her now. 

The final piece finally shatters in that forsaken cage during the eclipse, an empowered Zhan Tiri wreaking havoc outside and nary a spark of hope inside. She’s never seen Cassandra with such defeated, empty eyes before and she hopes she never sees it again. She melts into her arms, and of course it’s only then everything falls into place. 

( _They were right_ ) 

Heartbreak is painful, born of compassion and empathy and love, feelings much too raw when exposed. It’s a hard thing to reconcile, all things considered; the power other people can have over her emotions makes her never want to be vulnerable again, but Rapunzel knows she can’t live like that. And when Cassandra hands her the fractured moonstone shard, she knows she’s making the right choice.

It’s the first shattered piece of her heart, mended and back in its place, and Rapunzel knows the rest will regrow stronger again. She’s going to fight for it. 


	6. Trust and Healing

“How did you get this one?” Rapunzel asks, circling a pockmark on Cassandra’s throat with the pad of her thumb. It’s only a small white circle of scar tissue, and Rapunzel expects the usual answer: ‘I don’t remember’. But Cassandra stiffens underneath her, and is slow to answer. Rapunzel lifts her head to gaze into apprehensive hazel eyes and waits patiently as Cass toys with phrasing in her head. 

“Alphecca gave it to me, you know that disciple I ran into?” she says, and Rapunzel nods. Cassandra had written in her letters about the renegade disciple of Zhan Tiri that she’d encountered on her travels, but she’d been rather sparse with the details. 

“Well, she got pretty upset with me and got her hands on my neck before I could talk her down. She wasn’t going to kill me, but she’s got sharp fingers and they took a chunk out,” Cassandra explains. Rapunzel clenches her jaw and her hand retreats from Cass’ throat. She knows she’s getting the most whitewashed version of events, which is all Cassandra is comfortable sharing, so she has to reconcile the fact that she’s not getting the ugly details with the fact that Cassandra is opening up at all. 

It’s difficult. 

Cassandra frowns at her troubled expression and squeezes her hand. It doesn’t really need to be said; Rapunzel is scared. She’s scared that Cass will lose herself again if she keeps messing around with Zhan Tiri’s corrupted echoes, she’s scared that Cass will throw herself into the wrong lion’s den and never come out, she’s scared that Death is lurking in the shadows waiting to pounce- to reclaim that which was stolen from her. 

“Please, believe me that I don’t- I’m not trying to get hurt. Not anymore, anyway.” 

“I trust you Cass,” Rapunzel says. And it’s difficult, but it’s true. She knows Cass is healing and that she’ll never stray from that path, but she knows more than anyone that the healing she needs isn’t so simple as a golden flower and a song. It’s the kind of healing that comes with setbacks and relapses and doubts, and they both know Cass is fighting an uphill battle. Even as she left Corona on her journey, she was forward about the fact that she feared looking back. 

And then she’d left, leaving Rapunzel to stew on that note. 

Yet of course, Cass is still here, despite her near misses along the road. Rapunzel reaches forward and rubs the scar crossing her left eye with her thumb before leaning forward to press her lips against it, and then she does the same with the scar on her neck, and does the same to all the small marks scattered around. Trust and healing aren’t easy things, and they’re even harder when Cass leaves, as she will inevitably do again. But they’re working on it.


	7. Home is where you are / Devotion

The thin white veil wrapped around her left arm had clung valiantly to Cassandra’s tunic, but really, it’s a flimsy piece of cloth that was already ripped and ragged by the time she’d first tied it on. Cassandra mourns her Lady’s favour as she folds it up and tucks it into her pocket, feeling like she’s betraying Rapunzel by doing so, but the past few months have seen it caked with mud and torn by rocks (and stained with more than a little bit of blood), and there’s nearly no salvaging it at this point. It's all she can do to keep it safe and tucked away, even if it’s long past the point of discarding. 

Owl rolls his big eyes at her, clearly tired of her dramatics, and swoops past her head as she heaves a heavy sigh for the fifth time that hour. 

“Knock it off, Owl,” she chides him, only to receive a flat hoot in return as he lands on the pommel of her sword. 

“Don’t look at me like that. Who raised you to be so judgemental?”

“Hoot.”

“Yeah, yeah.” 

It’s Cassandra's turn to roll her eyes as she urges Fidella onwards, taking the fork in the path that would eventually lead her to that familiar yellow brick road.

Rapunzel frowns at the canvas in front of her, staining her chin with red paint as she taps her paintbrush against her chin. It’s hard to capture Cassandra’s essence when she doesn’t really know what she’s supposed to be capturing. Her bravery? Her laughter? Her love? It’s admittedly very hard to roll into one- painting isn’t always as easy as she makes it look. She needs a gift to present Cassandra with the next time she comes home, and it needs to be special, and meaningful, and the hands definitely need to not be backwards- dang it! 

Pascal chirps at her from her stool, unknowingly dipping his little claws into the puddles on her palette, and she gives him a rueful smile. She puts her paintbrush down and offers him a hand up, even though she knows the maids are going to be fraught with her for the tiny blue tracks lining her purple sleeves. 

“You’re right, Pascal,” she decides, looking at her canvas again. “I just need to take a step back, and take a breath, and come back to it later.” 

Of course, later ends up being when Cassandra arrives home unannounced, grinning at the misfortune that is Rapunzel's unfinished work. 

“I really wanted it to be ready for you when you got here,” Rapunzel sighed, pursing her lips at the unclean lines. 

“Sorry, it’s my fault for wanting to surprise you,” Cassandra smiles, and Rapunzel doesn't feel so bad anymore.

“Would you mind posing for me? It’ll be easier to finish now that I have the real thing to reference.”

“Sure, but you might have to add in this, it’s not really wearable anymore,” Cassandra confesses as she fishes her headdress out from the depths of her tunic’s pockets. Rapunzel giggles at the sorry state of it. 

“Oh, Cass. You didn't have to hold onto it- it’s, uh, seen better days,” she comments, and throws it straight into the scrap heap. Cassandra feels almost sad to see it go, but the sensation is dulled by the real thing in front of her. 

“Here,” Rapunzel says, tearing off a shred of her dress from the bottom hem and holding up the newly liberated strip. Cassandra winces, even if she’s not responsible for Rapunzel’s wardrobe anymore, but the consternation is easy to shrug off as Rapunzel sets about tying the purple ribbon around her arm. 

“There you go,” she says proudly, and Cass grins at her. Her silly, destructive, flower child Princess. 

“I’ll never take it off,” Cassandra boldly declares, even though they both know that’s not true. Just as the last favour was worn, so too will this one, but by then it’ll be time to visit home again.


End file.
